


Perfect for a Broken Boy

by SunlightSapphic



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Flowers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Idk how to tag things, Insecure Keith (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (voltron) is insecure, Lance (Voltron) is a Good Boyfriend, Lance (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Lance (Voltron) works at a flower shop, M/M, Secret Admirer, angsty, but they were only in school for like one little scene, but you dont need to, keith has a secret admirer, keith is sad, lance is an amazing human being, you might wanna know the meaning behind flowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 16:43:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15028838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlightSapphic/pseuds/SunlightSapphic
Summary: Keith, resident loner boy, captures the attention of lance, resident lover boy.or Keith keeps receiving flowers from a secret admirer and he doesn't know who it is.





	Perfect for a Broken Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed writing this and I really hope you enjoy reading it!!
> 
> *in editing

As Keith walked down the pathway towards his house, the delicate sounds of indie music filling his ears, he thought about his life.

How his days were accompanied by silent mornings and silent nights, how each day he would arrive home to an empty house with an empty heart, barely any trace of life other then the remnants of beer bottles in the shape of glass fragments on the stained carpet.

Despite this though, each day when he arrived home he couldn't help the small amount of hope that bloomed in his heart that maybe today would be the day where he walks through the door and be encompassed by his mother's arms, words of apology being whispered into his hair.

But that will never happen, for Keith was born into unhappiness and he'll die just the same. Nothing of extraordinary positivity has ever happened to him, his life is the epitome of negativity.

He shakes the depressing thoughts from his head before the tears spill, he couldn't be seen crying in public, it's weak. He's weak. He needs to wait until he's alone. Lonely and alone.

Keith's eyes scan over the people around him, the group of friends across the street waiting for the bus, the elderly couple chatting at the table of a coffee shop, resident lover boy, Lance McClain.

Keith drags his eyes away from Lance in a hurry, staring back down at the boring sidewalk. He never allows himself to stare at anytime for too long, especially Lance, fearing that someone will see him, tease him, beat him.

Keith makes it home and just as expected it's empty. No sign of life.

As soon as the door is closed, he leans against it, sliding down it towards the floor, finally letting the tears fall and the sobs to rip from his chest.

He falls asleep there to the sound of his heart breaking, surrounded my broken glass, stained floors and chipped paint. Perfect for a broken boy.

 

* * *

 

 

When he awakes it's to the sound of the back door creaking open and a flurry of panic races through his body as he pounces to his feet, slightly disoriented in the darkness of the living room.

He tiptoes cautiously towards the back of the house, and towards the kitchen. Peaking through the crack of the doorway, bathed in the unnatural fluorescence from the fridge is a figure. 

A woman, crouched down, obviously in search of something to eat or drink. As the woman grabs out a beer and chugs it down, her face is exposed to Keith's view.

They're not a stranger like expected.

He hasn't seen her in god knows how long, she's gotten skinnier, her cheekbones are high and prominent, her elbows are pointy and sharp. Every edge of her body looks as if it could slice through the strongest of materials. 

There's bags under her eyes, contrasting heavily against her pale complexion. She looks almost completely different from when Keith last saw her.

She used to be all soft features and soft touches, warm eyes and glowing smiles.

Now she's nothing but pain and sadness. It's sickening to look at her.

Keith decides it's no use talking to her, she's far too intoxicated to be coherent. So, he walks away, towards his room, unceremoniously flopping face first into the naked mattress on the floor.

He doesn't fall asleep though. He stays up, face pressed into the mattress, listening. Listening to the noises of his mother stumbling her way around the house, crashing into walls and slamming doors in her incoherent haze of drunkenness.

He feels like crying but tears no longer cloud his eyes, he's numb. He can't feel a thing.

 

* * *

 

 

School, just like everything else in Keith's life, is hell. He has no friends, no care for classes, and no hope for survival.

He walks down the halls, hoodie hiding him, hiding his face, hiding the bags under his eyes, hiding his unwashed hair and his sadness. Hiding everything.

Keith goes unnoticed by everyone, no matter how loud he's screaming inside to be cared about, no one can hear him over the sounds of their happiness. Nobody so much as notices him as he moves through the crowd, his eyes on the ground and his arms around himself, protecting himself.

Despite knowing that nobody sees him, that no body cares, he can't help but feel like someone's watching him. Someone's eyes are trained on his back right now.

But he'll never know if that feeling was true, he never once looked back to check.

 

* * *

 

 

He's walking home again, like every other day. It's raining, but he doesn't care. It's refreshing to feel the cool rainwater trek down his cheeks instead of the tears for once. The streets are bare today, no other person in sight. Strangely, it makes him feel less alone.

He doesn't have to watch other people interact as he's left out. He doesn't have to watch in disappointment when someone walks straight past him, bumping his shoulder slightly, as if he wasn't even there.

He loves the rain.

"I love the rain." A voice catches him off guard as he spins around to see who it belongs to. Situated against a brick wall is none other than Lance McClain, head tilted towards the sky as droplets pelt against his sun kissed skin.

Keith watches as a drop glides down the arch of his nose to linger against his top lip. Keith stares for far too long, far longer than he's ever allowed himself to stare.

Lance's eyes move down from the grey clouds and to Keith's face when he doesn't get a reply after a good amount of time.

Keith finally realizes that he's supposed to say something when blue eyes meet indigo, piercing into his very being.

Keith can't get any words out, he's forgotten how to speak, choking on air as he struggles to find anything to say. Anything at all.

Lances eyebrow tilts up in fascination before he's turning his head to check the time on his watch.

"Well, that's my cue to leave, see you round." And he's gone. Crossing over the street and finding refuge in the flower shop he works at.

Keith continues walking home, regret filling his chest. If only he could have said something. Anything. But no, he just had to go embarrass himself in front of Lance. Out of everyone it just had to be him, didn't it?

This world sure does love torturing him.

When Keith arrives home, he's shocked to see a splash of color against the worn doormat.

There, sitting intricately on the ground is a red carnation, a small piece of paper tied to it.

Keith picks it up, holding it gently in his hand and tracing his fingers across the petals. He looks around to see if there's any one around, but nothing. No trace of life other than the flower in his grasp.

This must be a mistake, no one would ever purposely leave a flower for him. They must have had the wrong address.

Keith looks around one last time before walking inside, heading straight to his room. He sits on the mattress, legs crossed and the flower placed delicately in front of him.

Keith tilts his head from side to side, taking in the beauty of the flower in front of him. His eyes catch on the note.

He peels it off slowly, letting the flower stay on the bed and just taking the note in his hand.

Written in beautiful cursive writing is a message.

_I'm proud of you, don't give up._

It's a simple message, but it has Keith's heart soaring, has butterflies filling his stomach, has a smile blooming across his face for the first time in years, has tears brought to his eyes, but unlike other times they were out of happiness.

Who would have thought a simple flower and seven words could mean so much to someone?

 

* * *

 

 

Keith was expecting that flower to be the only piece of kindness in his life, but it wasn't. The red carnation was one of many different types of flowers.

The next day when Keith arrives home, instead of a red carnation, a blue hyacinth was sitting delicately across the doormat. There was another note. And instead of waiting to read it like last time, Keith picked up the flower straight away, scanning his eyes over the note immediately.

_You deserve to have constant happiness forever and always._

Keith's heart erupts into pure happiness. A happiness that this anonymous person wants him to feel forever and always.

Keith decides then and there, whilst staring wistfully at the blue flower in his clutch, that he needs to find out who's giving him these small bursts of hope.

He quickly runs into his room, depositing the blue flower besides the red one inside of the vase next to his bed, before running out of his house in search of them.

Keith doesn't necessarily know who he's searching for but he has a rough idea of where this person got the flowers from.

Keith's feet take him to the front of the flower shop, he stares for a few seconds before pushing the door open, being immediately greeted with the scent of freshness and life.

His eyes scan over the rainbow of flowers, creating a halo of positivity in the building. There's a few people already in the shop, a man decked out in a suit purchasing roses, an elderly woman pointing at the daisies with her husband by her side, a little girl clutching tightly to her mother's hand as she drags her to look at the pretty flowers, and behind the register is none other than Lance McClain.

Lance was stood behind the counter, a purple lilac in between his fingers and a soft smile on his face.

What if it's him?

No, no way. Keith was not going to get his hopes up. Not yet at least, not without solid evidence.

His eyes move away from Lance and around the shop, searching for three specific flowers. A red carnation, a blue hyacinth and a hydrangea.

He finds the first two easily, it's hard to miss them, especially when he'd purposely input them into his brain forever, so that he'll never forget.

The hydrangea was harder to find, but he found it soon enough. Picking a singular one up before walking to the counter to purchase it. He'd made sure before leaving that he had enough money, so price shouldn't be a worry.

When he walked up, Lance finally turned his gaze away from the lilac in his hand to look down at Keith. He smiled politely at him before glancing downwards to the flower clutched in Keith's palm.

His eyebrow raised, imitating the other time he raised his eyebrow at Keith in the rain.

"Just the one?" He asked, smile still stretched out on his face. He has a pretty smile.

Keith nodded instead of answering, causing Lance to laugh slightly.

Lance told him the price, which wasn't much at all, and then he walked out of the shop and instead of turning right to head home, he turned left, in the direction of the town library.

Keith knew he'd find what he needed there, just a bit of paper and a pen. He'd also need a piece of string or some ribbon but he'll figure that later.

He arrived at the library, immediately finding what he needs and writing out a small, simple message.

After doing so, he went into the conveniently placed craft store next door and purchased a white ribbon to tie the note to the flower.

Keith walked home after that, a smile on his face and a hydrangea in his hand. He couldn't be any happier.

He got home and there, on the doorstep was a familiar purple lilac.

The same exact lilac that Lance had been holding when he'd walked into the flower shop. It was Lance the entire time.

The smile on his face only got bigger as he picked up the lilac to read the note.

A blush erupted across his cheeks at the sight of the three words.

_I love you_

 

* * *

 

 

Keith got the best sleep of his life that night, with the hydrangea next to his head and the blue, red and purple flowers at the end of his bed.

A smile danced its way across his face as soon as he awoke. He showered, washing his hair thoroughly and making sure he smelt somewhat decent, got changed into the nicest outfit he owns and headed out the door towards the flower shop with the hydrangea in his hand.

Keith didn't know if Lance worked Saturdays but he could only pray that he did.

He arrived at the flower shop and there through the glass was the one he was searching for.

He stared for a little while, at the way the flowers framed him, the way his smile grew and how he tipped his head back when he laughed. He watched as Lance walked towards the door.

Was he leaving? He's leaving. Did he see Keith? Is he going to come out here and tell Keith to leave? What if Lance isn't the one who was giving him flowers?

No that makes no sense, of course it was Lance. It has to be.

Keith collected himself just as Lance walked out of the shop. Lance apparently hadn't seen him at all and was starting to walk in the opposite direction towards who knows where, when Keith jogged up to him, placing his hand on Lance's shoulder to turn him around.

Lance was clearly surprised to see Keith and it didn't help that Keith probably looked insane right now, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, trying to find the words.

When he couldn't find any, he thrust the flower towards Lance's chest and promptly stared at his feet to conceal the blush coating his cheeks. Lance's eyes cleared of confusion and he plucked the hydrangea from his fingers, eyes immediately tracing the words on the note, mouthing them as he read. _Thank you._

Lances eyes moved away from the flower and towards Keith own eyes. Lance's expression was soft, loving, beautiful.

The flower dropped from Lance's fingertips as he took Keith's face in his hands, softly cupping his cheeks, stroking his thumbs over his cheekbones.

Keith's whole body relaxed at the touch, not experiencing affection in a long time must have really taken a number on him.

"I love you too." Keith spoke, his voice quiet and mildly scratchy from lack of use. Those were the first words he'd uttered to Lance ever. They're the first words he'd uttered to anyone in forever.

Lance's smile grew fonder as the words registered in his brain and before Keith knew it, there lips were pressed into a light kiss. The touch was soft, gentle. It was filled with love and nothing more.

It was perfect.

Perfect for a broken boy.

Perfect for a boy who's no longer broken.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you loved reading it just as much as I loved writing it!!


End file.
